Drunk On You, High On Summertime
by fingertips on my warm skin
Summary: Sexy country boy handyman Jack Brewer was living a lazy life before whirlwind city girl Kim Crawford got stranded in town. When there's no room at the only motel he's stuck with the blonde spitfire for a month, utterly convinced it'll be the worst month of his life. Despite his best efforts he falls for the petite golden haired dancer but is convinced he isn't good enough for her.
1. Luke Bryan

**Title: Drunk On You**

**Synopsis: Sexy country boy handyman Jack Brewer was living a lazy life before whirlwind city girl Kim Crawford got stranded in town. When there's no room at the only motel he's stuck with the blonde spitfire for a month, utterly convinced it'll be the worst month of his life. Despite his best efforts he falls for the petite golden haired dancer but is convinced he isn't good enough for her. Can Kim manage to change his mind?**

**Pairings: Jack/Kim, Milton/Julie, Jerry/Mika, Eddie/Grace, Bobby Wasabi/Joan. Rudy/Ty, Jack/Jerry/Milton/Eddie bromances. Eddie never really left the Wasabi Warriors-I keep expecting him to pop up but of course he doesn't…*sniffs* The title idea came from Luke Bryan's song Drunk On You.**

**Genre: Romance/Hurt-Comfort**

**So I suppose this is incredibly stupid because I still have to finish Ain't No Sunshine and Jackeo & Kiminet but I've always wanted to switch the whole 'Kim's a Southern Belle' thing on its head. And Kickin' It is ending (WHY?) so this is my way of stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the fact. Ha.**

**Disclaimer: IF I OWNED KICKIN' IT THERE IS NO WAY IT WOULD EVER CANCEL. EVER.**

* * *

_I'm a little drunk on you, and high on summertime_

_-Luke Bryan, Drunk On You_

Tilting his black Stetson further back onto his head, twenty-seven year old Jack Brewer tongued a toothpick, strong knee bent upon the cold tiled floor of the hospital, working steadily as he quietly listened to the conversations of the passing doctors, nurses, visitors, and patients.

His worn jeans, dark boots, and pale purple plaid shirt identified him as a man who made an honest, if not rich living. His burnished mahogany hair curled over the shirt color, with almost identical dark moles winking as he turned his head to pick up a pair of tweezers, intent on fixing the inside wires of the wall plug. Aware of the awkward position, his long muscled form for passing cots and the like, Jack shifted, attempting to press his lanky body even closer into the dull wall, straining to finish his task.

Within a few more minutes, the tweezer returned to its place in his rusty red toolbox, job finished. Satisfied, Jack stood up with a groan, rolling his powerful shoulders for a minute to stretch out the kinks that the short, uncomfortable job had given him, before setting off down the hall with a purpose and cheerfulness that one scarcely saw in such a frequently sad place.

After a bit he paused briefly in his journey to the front desk, reaching out a tan hand to grab at the arm of a passing doctor.

Pale blue met coffee brown as the doctor, the one and only Milton Krupnick, looked up at his long known friend, a smile creasing the frequently worried face of the cardiologist, freckles lifting and ginger brown hair sparking.

"You fixed up the socket?" the doctor inquired, tucking his clipboard under his arm and giving his full, blue scrubbed attention to the one-inch-taller but one-year-younger best friend. "Goodness knows Marge has been after me long enough to get you to fix it."

The only Brewer left in Georgia cracked a smile at the mention of their mutual, mothering nurse friend and laughed.

"Yeah, Marge's always seems to have something up her ass when something ain't right in her hospital; you tell her I covered it, okay?"

"Will do." The properly-grammified doctor nodded, slight Georgian accent peeking out of the educationally-affected speech. "You going home now?"

"Yep," Jack lifted his hat and ran one hand through the long thick brown locks that Milton's wife, Julie, had offered to cut many times. "Kelly's gonna start getting antsy if I stay away too long. I'm usually home by six, y'know. And I've got a strong hankerin' for some of Mika and Jerry's home cooking and they close at seven."

"See you tomorrow then, brother," Milton returned, referring to Jack's steady job fixing up the old but faithful hospital's electrical issues. The men parted with a brief look, and the brunette resumed his path to the welcome desk, looking forward to saying goodbye to the three young ladies that checked in the ill patients of Landford, Georgia.

There were three of them-Erica Straffman, Milton's wife Julie, and Claire Weathers. All very close in age (26, 28, and 23 respectively), they were the most amusing nurse/secretaries Jack knew, and their antics regularly amused him. That, and their habit of cooking his bachelor self amazing home cooking, almost as good as the cooking he was in fact going to ingest later.

Erica Straffman was a slightly bitter college dropout with a sharp tongue, but great sense of humor. Even the doctors knew not to mess with the no-nonsense auburn haired woman, but her soft spot for crying wives and girlfriends was just as well known. That, and the fact that her pulled pork rivaled Mika Martinez's.

Julie Krupnick was the one of sweetest women Jack had ever met, and her apple pie was just as cavity inducing-she worried the most about the fact that Jack was being a bachelor, and constantly tried to set him up with everyone she could. When one says everyone, one means everyone.

Considering the fact that Jack's cousin Claire had once been Julie's competition, regarding Jack's ginger haired best friend, the two bonded over weird particulars, like stitching and ladies golf, oddly enough. Her long, curly, penny-shined hair had half of the young male nurses and doctors falling all over themselves to do her bidding, despite her engagement to rising business manager, Brody Carlson.

"I'm heading out for the night, little misses," Jack teased the group of women with his pet name for the group, placing his somewhat heavy toolbox on the clean marble countertop. "I need to sign out."

"Oh, Jackson," Julie tittered, using his full name. "You're absolutely sure none of the new nurses was purty enough to catch your eye? That nice doctor Donna Tobin was asking about you."

The strong man in front of her gave a bark of a laugh, scrawling a signature surprisingly loopy for a man on the offered paper, lifting his toolbox again in preparation for departure.

"Missus Krupnick, you know how I feel about hoity-toity visiting doctor Donna Tobin. She may have mile long legs," he interrupted himself, to give a whistle of appreciation that made even stoic Erica laugh. "But her personality's been hit with the ugly stick, I swear."

"Be careful!" Ever thoughtful Claire called after him, shaking her head amusedly at the six-foot tall man waving backwards to them. "Oh you," she murmured to herself, internally agreeing with Julie.

Their Jackie needed a woman. A woman that could rein in his impulsive ways and soften his sharp edges, cut by a past that Claire, even as a relatively distant cousin, knew all too well. A woman that could show him that life was more than just work, beer, and hunting with that dang dog of his. A woman that could teach him the beauty that was in the sunrise, and make him appreciate the little things that his heart had been denied at such a sadly young age.

Claire only hoped that the miracle woman would come soon, because her cousin really needed a kick in the pants about what life was all about. You can't stay single forever, you know. It's incredibly unhealthy.


	2. Rascal Flatts

_You gotta go deep, way on back  
Cross a few creeks, and a couple little shacks  
You gotta get lost, way on out  
Crickets and frogs, yeah you're gettin' close now  
And you kick it into four wheel drive when you run out of road  
And you go, and you go, and you go-go-go-go  
'Til you hear a Banjo_

_-Banjo, Rascal Flatts_

Being stranded in the middle of nowhere was a new low from being lost in the middle of nowhere, Kim had to admit.

_Classic car, long lasting_, he'd said. _Still a sports car, barely use_d, he'd said. _HIGHLY DEPENDABLE_, HE'D SAID. That was the LAST time she was buying a car online, she swore.

The blonde aimed a kick at the sleek black hood of her Toyota Supra and shrieked, immediately regretting her movement when pain shot up her leg. Unlike normal people who didn't kick that hard, Kim's dancer training had taught her to make every move count and the energy aimed at it's front hood had done nothing but hurt, and she suspected, sprain, her ankle.

Now cursing vividly Kim plopped her butt down in the driver's seat, turning up the headlights in the hope that someone would see her on this Godforsaken road and save her admittedly sorry ass. She highly doubted it though-she hadn't seen a car in a good half hour and she had no earthly idea why anyone would randomly be driving on some road in the South around six o'clock in the evening, the world almost completely shrouded in darkness. If Kim had been in her native New York she would've been saved a long time again but nooo she'd gotten in the car and decided to drive until Ricky was firmly out of her head.

A pang struck her heart at the mention of her cold-hearted ex's name appearing in her brain and Kim sighed, a sob attempting to hiccup its way out of her throat. It was all Ricky's fault, she decided. If he hadn't gone and sat her down and _fucking EXPLAINED_ why their relationship was only an outlet for him physically and he wanted to _THANK HER_ for satisfying his needs she wouldn't have punched him in the face, gotten in the car, and then drove until Kim couldn't drive anymore.

She was stuck in this impossible situation, somewhere around the seaboard border of Georgia and South Carolina, because Kim had a talent for picking bad guys.

Dashing a few tears from her eyes the petite blonde closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

* * *

On his way home from his dinner with Jerry, Mika, and their exhausting brood of children who insisted on climbing all over 'Uncle Jack' and running their hands through Kelly's poor fur until it practically stood up straight the last thing he expected to see were bright headlights lighting to less used road between him and his home.

Not many people were out driving out around midnight in Landford's famous barmy weather, so the fact that the headlights shapes were more angled than the pickup trucks Jack was used to seeing didn't escape him.

Rubbing a hand through the sandy, ruffled ruff of his golden retriever collie mix Jack pressed gently on the breaks of his wasabi green truck, Kelly raising her head to stare out the window with bright, doggishly intelligent brown eyes as the lowering of the soothing voice of Kelly's favorite country singer (Kenny Chesney if you can guess).

Parking across the road from the car Jack pulled his Stetson lower to shield his eyes from the glare of the headlights, approaching the car with a grinning, tail wagging Kelly at his heels. Peeking in the front seat Jack was shocked to see perhaps the most delicate and gorgeous young woman he'd ever seen.

Curled up under a blanket, with the AC running and a jazz station playing was a slim, curvy blonde, golden hair looped and trailing down her back, smooth cheeks and plump shell-pink lips slightly parted. Still shocked by the simple beauty of the woman before him Jack couldn't help himself-he leaned forward and brushed a gentle work-roughened hand along the slightly fuller lower lip and felt his cheeks flush as the blonde sighed and accidently kissed his knuckle, the warm air from her lips sending heat to places that Jack would be ashamed to admit too.

Slightly embarrassed and mentally scolding himself Jack moved his hand down to her shoulder, shaking her gently, and then harder as she failed to wake. When further pushing signified the fact that she was in fact not going to wake up until she wanted to _thank you very much_ the brunette nudged an arm under her legs, the other just below her head, lifting the small woman gently and holding her close to him before turning and striding as softly as he could back to his truck.

_She couldn't sit in the front seat like that_, he realized, and resorted to nudging the door to the standard mockery of a backseat that trucks had quickly becoming frustrated when he couldn't figure out a way to make her comfortable. Using a great many of the perfected signals and frenzied whispered instructions Kelly finally understood what her human best friend was trying to get across and dragged the flannel blanket from the portable compartment Jack placed there for emergencies onto the narrowish floor behind the driver and shotgun.

Jack nestled the blonde beauty in the warm haven and quickly returned to her car, shutting it off and pocketing the keys to return to their owner when she awakened. About fifteen minutes later Jack was driving towards home with a whole lot more than he's left out with-he was towing a really nice sports car, had the keys for said sports car in his jeans pocket, and the beautiful driver sleeping soundly behind him, but resting so much like Sleeping Beauty that his awareness of her was on hyper drive.

Kelly's brief head nudge signified her finding something interesting and Jack reached back with his left hand not missing a beat when a wallet, slightly dampened, landed in his palm. Kelly resumed her snuggling with the stranger (Jack refused to feel jealous about that because if he could he'd rather be snuggling with that particular stranger than himself) and Jack flipped the embroidered leather open and slipped out a drivers license.

_So. Her name was Kimberly Anne Crawford, she was twenty-six, five two, lived in new York and was certified to drive a motorcycle as well as commercial vehicles._

Peeking under the brim of his hat the country handyman sneaked a look at the apparently snug as a bug blonde and then returned his gaze to the road, eyebrow raising despite himself. _Motorcycle? That little lamb could barely drive her car from the look of it._

Flicking the wallet and license into the passenger seat Jack shook any thoughts of what she could be riding out of his mind and headed for his two story cottage looking home, hoping desperately that a) she wasn't a psycho killer and b) the Crawford was her maiden name, because Lord knows this was going to be a lot more awkward if there was a mister involved.

* * *

**It's rated T for swearing and allusion to sexy times. I won't include them if you object but if you really want them I'll give 'em to ya :) Didya see what I did there? Landford instead of Sea hee hee...okay I'll shut up I sound maniacal :3**

**I love you all! Hope you like the story so far!**


	3. Taylor Swift

_the way you walk, way you talk, way you say my name,Its beautiful, wonderful, don't you ever change_

_-Taylor Swift, Hey Stephen_

My couch is extraordinarily uncomfortable to sleep on unfortunately.

I'm pretty sure that my ass is sore in some places it should NOT be sore in, dammit. Added to the fact that last night it was hotter than Jerry's homemade chili and so dry that to try to tell the winds direction is would be dry before it left my mouth I sure as heck hope that the little city git was happy in my bed. MY. BED.

That next morning I was groaning like my truck on a dusty day, stretching my arms out and cracking all sorts of things like popcorn. Running my hands through my hair I blinked in the early morning sunlight and stared unseeingly at the flat screen in front of me, a quote unquote lovely change from the usual view of Momma's orchard I usually got to see.

This little miss better be worth me getting torn up or someone's getting their ass hauled up around her ears, no matter if it's a rounded one or not.

Standing up I folded up the sheet I'd used last night, used to waking up at the crack of dawn. Tossing the sheet into the pile of used clothes in the laundry basket I headed into my small, homely kitchen, gathering food for a breakfast feast. Since miss Sleeping Beauty hasn't woken up yet I guess I might as well feed the lamb. Goodness knows she's skinny enough. I flicked on the radio to my normal country station and walked around the small house, raising shutters everywhere as I whisked the seven eggs, whistling to myself.

_"…regular Joe's, rocking the boat, that's uuss,"_ I sang softly to myself, returning to the kitchen and ruffling the fur of a barking Kelly, up as early as I was._ "Redneck yacht club," _Craig Morgan's hit continued to play throughout the house as I continued to prepare breakfast.

The song was long past over by the time I heard footsteps padding gently around. I set the final plate of traditional, honest yellow Southern grits on the table when the little lamb finally made her ever lovin' journey into the room.

I almost chuckled at the song that began to play when she made her appearance-_Ladies Love Country Boys_ by Trace Adkins-but halted when I caught sight of her, breath catching in my throat.

Hot damn.

She was even purdier when _not_ tuckered out.

For a Yankee, sugar sure did make my old clothes look pretty damn good. An old black and white jersey from my high school days hung on her petite form, plaid boxer with the same color scheme on her shapely hips. Her long golden hair was tossed into a sloppy bun on top of her head and her face, though washed clean of makeup, was strikingly beautiful in the morning sun. Her eyes were squinted in the sunlight, one petite hand against her face, and I knew that there wasn't a prettier face on this side of Georgia.

That is until she opened her mouth.

"Can you close the freaking shutters?" She demanded, other hand planted on her hips. "I can't go to sleep and I need to get back on the road soon."

I raised an eyebrow at her impudence and chuckled to myself, sticking a fresh toothpick in the corner of my mouth, folding my arms over my bare chest. What? No self respectin' man sleeps in a shirt unless its under sixty! "Now miss you better skedaddle your pretty little behind into that seat before I teach you how to thank a kind man for saving your sorry ass, yes?"

Her mouth dropped over at my impudence and I chuckled again, shaking my head and plopping down at the head of the four person wooden table set, gesturing to the breakfast feast I'd set out. "There's gotta be somethin' here you like sugar," I finished, "but you better tuck in anyway because I'm not even talking about you leavin' 'til you've got some good home cooking in you."

The rosebud mouth closed with a snap and she stiffly, with great pomp and contempt, sat herself down next to me, taking the napkin from the napkin stand and smoothing in over her lap. "I'm Kim." she said stiffly, tea colored eyes (flippin' _startling_ they were so pretty eyes) over my impromptu feast.

"Jackson. But you can call me Jack," I shared, and filled my own plate to bursting with my delicious food. Dear God, thank you for Julie's cooking lessons. I grabbed my Stetson from the chair on my other side and placed it on my head, feeling better with the familiarity of it. The weirdness of eating at this table with any woman since Momma…about as odd as seeing a goat in the wintertime.

"So what is a pretty thing like you doing in Landford, Georgia?" I asked her, munching with satisfaction on eggs and bacon. "I've never seen you around before and believe me, if I had, I woulda noticed."

Kim shot me a look as she served herself minimal portions of the foods in front of us. "Could you stop that?" She inquired shortly, causing my eyebrow to raise.

"Stop what, pretty miss? Sweetalkin' you?"

"No…using improper grammar." She grumbled. "The sweetalkin', as you call it, is just damn annoying. You have any coffee?"

"Not my problem, sugar," I shrugged. "And nothin' but black. So back to my question. What're ya doing down here?"

"I needed escape." Kim sighed, staring mournfully at her plate before digging in. "My car broke down, so I ended up here. You don't have any sugar?"

"That hoity-toity car of your is somewhat our of commission by the way darlin'," I commented, biting down on an especially burned piece of bacon. "You ain't getting nowhere around on that for the upper side of a month. And if you really want to there's some in the cubbard-although there's enough sugar in the smile of yours to sweeten any mans coffee." I winked at that last phrase, watching with pleasure as her face reddened, feeling a sweet joy watching the woman no higher than a grasshoppers knees get riled up.

"A _month_?" She squeaked in surprise and I laughed, liking the adorable face she ended up making while she tried to splutter for an answer, the ringing of my home phone interrupting Kim's sweet little cries of disbelief.

"Landford ain't that bad sugar I swear." I chuckled lowly at her, pushing away from the table to grab my ringing phone. "Besides, I can hook you up with a good deal at the only motel in town if it comes to that. The owners an old bud of mine. Yeah?"

_"Mornin' Jackeroo!"_

The chipper voice of my Spanish-heritage-yet-Georgia-raised brother invaded my ear and I laughed, watching Kim eat daintily with one eye, a smile creeping on to my face at the way she frowned at the odd, for her, color of the grits.

"The sun still shining, Jer?"

"_Wait_-" he left the phone to ask Mika and returned in a minute. _"Yessiree. So what happened to you last night? You forgot to call when you got back. Penny was worried sick." _'Penny' being Jerry's nickname for his wife I gave a grimace, having forgotten my promise to the young woman with my man's heart, so caught up in the blonde spitfire at the table that the whole check up thing had slipped my mind.

"Picked up a little lady who's going to be stranded for a bit, Jer. You and the missus have any room at the motel?"

_"Oh man, not now, Jack. We signed our last spot two days ago. Any chance she can stay with you 'til our tenant moves out? It should only be for another week and a half, and she tires of your ever lovin' ANNOYING company she can come over here."_

"Okay. Lemme give her the news, give the kids a smack on the head for me, kay?"

"_Sure. See ya later, bro."_

With a grimace I hung up the phone, returning to the table to stare thoughtfully at the blonde still eating, a confused look on her stuffed cheeks. "Well chipmunk you're stuck with my company for the next week and half. There's no room at the inn."

Kim's mouth dropped open for the second time. "Am I dreaming?"

"Naw, sweet thing. But if it was," I motioned to my unclothed torso. "It'd sure be a wet one."

Kim's eyes rolled up in her head and she gave a shriek of injustice, causing me more laughter than strictly polite.

This woman was going to make me laugh my kidneys out, she was.

A sweet thing with a temper?

It'd be a miracle if I didn't kill myself.

**when I have more time ill address your reviews, promise!**


	4. Lady Antebellum

_Lying here with you so close to me_

_Its hard to fighr these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe_

_Im caught up in this moment_

_Caught up in your smile_

_-Just a Kiss, Lady Antebellum_

Kim might've been a 'lil thing' according to Jack but she could sure pack it all away.

After she survivesurvivedshock of the fact that she had to bunk with an obstinate, big-headed country boy with no proper training for a month before she could get to moving Kim reconciled herself with her fate and dug in, finishing her plate and one more. She'd be loathe to admit it, much less to him of all people, but it was the best breakfast she'd had in who knows how long. Even Kim couldn't cook that well. The entire breakfast was delicious.

Blushing when she dropped a morsel of yolkless egg on the boxer shorts that had been left on the bed for her when she'd awoken, Kim was startled when her new roomie walked out of his bedroom clothed in a light blue, rough looking button down shirt and jeans, the buckle on his belt glinting in the light and a cowboy hat so black it was almost purple.

Jack's muscles rippled under the fabric as he reached down to ruffle the fur of his loyal dog, causing Kim to fight the urge to stare. He may be an egotistical jerk who insisted on sweet talking her like there was no tomorrow but the man had enough presence and imposing figure to, it seems like, get away with anything.

Selecting a key set from the key catcher hanging on the dining room wall he shot her a look with his brilliant apple cider eyes, speckles of green flint sharp. "I don't if you've figured it out yet, little miss, but I'm not exactly high cotton. My first fixin' gig is in about fifteen minutes and I've got to skedaddle. Don't rob me while I'm home, 'kay?" Jack motioned to the huge, panting, sandy furred dog who was staring at me with a wise gaze, red tongue lolling all over the place. "This here is my main gal Kelly-she's going to have to stay home with you 'cuz I'm working on the more uptight side of Landford and they don't take kindly to dog hair all over their hoity toity' furniture."

A lull in the conversation told Kim that she'd missed her cue to reply and the blonde beauty flushed, nervously pushing a curly strand of her hair back behind her ear, pushing back from the table awkwardly. "She doesn't bite?"

"Kelly?" the tall man in front of her chuckled as the dog in question barked with supposed doggy humor. "Sheesh, little miss. She wouldn't hurt a fly if it bit her on the nose. Kelly, say hello."

The big sheperd-retreiver mix padded her way to the other female in the nose and pushed her big head into her knees, making a rumbling noise in the pit of her throat that Kim noticed sounded surprisingly like a purr. Shocked, Kim let out a small giggle and leaned down, running her hands through the soft downy fur. "You've taken care of her beautifully," the dancer admitted, admiring the silky texture of Kelly's 'hair'. "She obviously cares for you deeply."

"As I well should! Lord knows she's taken care of me…" Kim looked up just in time to see Jack's eyes soften as he looked at the dog, then harden as walls came up around his feelings. "Just make sure she's fed at lunch time. I'll be home around four thirty, five at tops is the hospital don't need me. You'll be fine without me little miss? I don't want to have to miss a perfectly good work day because you've set the house on fire."

Kim planted her hands on her hips and glared at the impudence he'd just exhibited, offended at the thought of her needed to be saved. "I must thank you for rescuing me and my poor car," she admitted reluctantly "but I can take care of myself just fine! I don't need you looking over my shoulder with that pungent hay-ie smell and that disgusting habit of yours to tower over people like you're the damned Empire State Building. You go and work! Kelly and I will be fine."

"All right, all right, little miss! Don't get your panties in a twist!" Jack chuckled again, the deep timbre and country accent sending heat floating all around Kim's body no matter how much she wished it didn't. Heading towards what Kim assumed was the front door the tall brunette disappeared and within a matter of minutes the blonde heard the sound of a truck starting up, then subsequently taking off.

Well.

What was she supposed to do now?

Three hours later Kim decided that there a great many things she hated about the handyman's house.

His radio was broken-anything other than that damned country music station was too staticky to make out which was ridiculous because he was a handyman for Christ's sake. You can't fix up a radio inside your own house when its your LIFESTYLE to fix things? Absolutely ridiculous.

The house hadn't seen a good cleaning in about a decade. Dust was in places that Kim had never even imagined dust could get and anything that wasn't the bathroom in the master bedroom, the master bedroom, kitchen, and dining room was covered with a layer of greyness. It was absolutely vile.

He had enough homecooked food in his refridgerator to feed a starving tribe in Africa but most of it (or at least the stuff in that back) was so old it could keep a tribe of scientists busy for a year. That fact was just so wrong it took as she had in her not to throw up at the thought of what could been in her grits.

And lastly, to top it all off, there were so many dirty clothes next to the brand spanking new washer and dryer she could've clothed half the homeless people in the world.

If you're house has enough old food to keep busy both and African tribe and a tribe of scientists, enough clothes to give to half the homeless people, and enough dust to cover half of America, then you have serious problems.

And then, being the neat freak she was, Kim snapped.

Tearing off the red and white checkered sleeve of a shirt he could obviously not longer wear there were so many moth holes in it, Kim pulled her long curly hair into a ponytail, threw on a deep white v-neck, kept the black and white boxers, and set about cleaning the house. For the next eight hours while her unexpected savior fixed leaks and loose springs across the city the little blonde spitfire fixed up his house, and let me tell you it was hard to do.

What Kim was trying to do was going to take a miracle-

But then again, she was a miracle.

Jack's miracle.

And she wasn't going away.

When Jack came home he was in a bad mood.

The seventeen year old youngest girl of the senator had tried to make the moves on him while he set up her fathers new bathroom plumbing, one of the elderly patients at the hospital whom he was especially fond of had succumbed to cancer, and after hearing about his new living arrangement every woman he knew attempted to drown him in home cooked meals.

He frowned when he got out of the car-there was something different about his house. The sprawling first floor windows seemed to shine in the fading sunlight and on both floors new cream curtains (to compliment the chocolate color painted on the cottage like houses outer walls and the white wash of the wrap around porch) fluttered in the evening shade.

Hefting his toolbox over his left shoulder and his overflowing sack of food related goodies onto his right he headed for his abode, a headache beginning to pound in his temples. Jack was tired, pissed, and sweaty. All he wanted to do was pass out on his bed, maybe after taking a shower, and forget about the world.

If only that little chit hadn't blown up anything while he was gone.

The minute the tall brunette set foot inside his front stoop both his bags and his jaw hit the floor.

His house was clean. Like, smack your grammy clean.

The wood floors gleamed like they were made of copper. His silver chandelier shone like the silver it was. He couldn't see a spiderweb (or a terrified spider) anywhere. Carefully, he walked through each room.

Living room-all of the comfy looking furniture, inviting in its shades of green, looked vacuumed and smelled like the sea, his fifty-inch flatscreen wiped down, the glass cases holding his DVD's, video games, and small collection of books completely see through.

Dining room-the table he'd eaten at just this morning smelled like Pinesol and looked brand new, tiled floor shining and breathtakingly CLEAN. The tv in this room was wiped down too, all the painting straightened on the walls, seat cushions aired and cushy once more.

Master bedroom-royal purple sheets he'd never seen in his life encased his California king mattress, light purple sheets and abundance of pillows neatly folded and plumped. The floors in this room had been treated as well, his bedside lamp shining with what he suspected was a new light, but the bigger surprise came when he opened his closet door. All his clothes-every single piece of clothing he'd ever fit or could still fit, from his collection of Stetsons, cowboy boots, regular shoes, even fucking slippers and pajamas-were folded, pressed, and separated. Jack took a dream whiff and almost fainted with pleasure when he found out that the entire closet smelled of her-a sweet, sweet vanilla.

His chrome kitchen was treated in much the same way, and the three heaping black trash bags next to the door leading to the back porch told him what had happened to the old food in his cleaned out refrigerator. Careful not to ruin the categorizing job the midget had done to his food he put his 'new food' there accordingly and closed the fridge just as carefully. Resting his toolbox at the backdoor as he usually did, Jack gently tiptoed to the guest room door, sure of what he'd see there.

He'd been right.

The guest room was as clean as all hell, just like the rest of the house, but the most beautiful sight of all was the softly sleeping beauty curled up in the center of the bed, white light from the television station she was watching flickering over her curvy figure. Kelly was resting at her side, tail thumping quietly on the bed as she watched her master, giving a doggy yawn as the blonde beauty cuddled into the big dogs side.

Jack's breath almost left him at how adorable she looked-

His blonde homeless person that is, not his number one gal.

Her deep sighs as she slept was a clear indicator of her exhausted state and the grey silk pajamas (his, he realized, but he didn't really give a shit at this point because she looked so much better in them then he did) draped themselves on her petite figure like a tent.

Placing a finger to lips to make sure Kelly stayed quiet, Jack picked Kim up in much the same way he did when he'd first met her, tucking her under the white sheets in the guest bedroom.

Kelly padded over to him when he was finished and followed him into his own bedroom after Jack'd turned off the television and bedside lamp, making herself comfortable as she waited for her human best friend to come to bed.

In the shower, Jack slid down the white bathroom wall and ran a hand through long, thick, wet hair.

Damn.

That blonde midget had some fire in her.

Maybe she wouldn't be so bad after all.


	5. Blake Shelton

_If you'll be my soft and sweet_  
_I'll be your strong and steady_  
_You be my glass of wine_  
_I'll be your shot of whiskey_

_You be my sunny day_  
_I'll be your shade tree_  
_You be my honeysuckle_  
_I'll be your honey bee_

_Yeah that came out a little country_  
_But every word_  
_was right on the money_  
_And I got you smilin' honey_  
_right back at me_

_Now hold on 'cause I ain't done_  
_There's more where that came from_  
_Well you know I'm just havin' fun_  
_But seriously_

_-Blake Shelton, Honey Bee_

* * *

_Jack's POV_

I am utterly convinced that I am harboring some kind of alien.

No regular woman that I've ever met acts like my li'tl miss. Sugar made sure her cleaning job stuck, and then took over my whole house, confound it. _She's_ the one who microwaves all my food for dinner, packs my paper bag for lunch, and watches football with me in the evenings. She weeds my freakin' backyard, cleans my confounded clothes, and waves goodbye to me in the mornings. _And God bless her its only been a freakin'week and a half._

"Change of plans, sugar."

Kim's eyes, as earth-shakin' purdy as they were, glowed with surprise as she raised her head from her plate. Despite all the changes the blonde Yankee'd imposed in my house I still insisted on makin' breakfast, and the piece of yellow yolk hanging between her plush lips looked endearing instead of disgusting like it was 'sposed to. She slurped it back in her mouth and gave me a curious glance, left hand tugging on a stray curl from her messy bun, grey pajama's still on her pert form.

"What do you mean, _change of plans_, Jackson?" she said carefully, choosin' her words like a woman who was too big for her britches.

"You're comin' to work with me." I told her with finality, crossing my arms across my chest. The burnt orange button-down that I had on was scratchy but dependable, stretched across my broad chest and I knew that that, assembled with a pair of dark jeans and a khaki-colored Stetson that Momma gave me, made me a good lookin' picture. It was hard for ladies ta say no to me regularly, so I was confident that I would have the same affect on my pert blonde roomie.

"No."

I raised a brow. "Uhm, what did you just say little missy?"

Kim sighed. "Oh get off your high horse Jackson, stop being pissed at me. I like staying home. It's a nice change so forgive me if I don't particularly want to stop being happily lazy and come watch you fix things around people I've never met."

Something crawled up my spine like a lightning bug in June hearing her mention my house as _home_ but I forced myself to ignore it. "Honey bun it wasn't a question. You just get off that pretty li'tl ass and get dressed cuz like it or not, you're coming."

Kim's eyes hardened. "No."

"Kimber'ly. Anne. Crawford." I growled out between words, stalking towards the northern beauty to trap her between my arms. She seemed to shrink a little as I got closer and I had the fleeting thought that maybe my sweet lil sugar was wary ofphys'cal confrontation. Did someone _hit_ my Kimmy? The thought enraged me so much that it took all I had ta hold back the urge to hit something. I was scarin' my Kimmy and I just couldn't have that.

"Kimmy…" I intended to place my hand on her delicate lil shoulder but apparent'ly it decided to have a mind of its own and stroked her soft-as-butter cheek. The blonde's brunette eyelashes fluttered a bit on contact and she let out a defeated sigh, a half-smile on her beautiful lil face. "You're comin'." I finished and backed away, taking the keys off it's loop and headin' out to the car, followed by a happy Kelly. "Go get gussied up."

* * *

**Third Person**

Kim shouldn't have gone with him-he demanded her to do things, hadn't even _tried_ to pay her for helping out around _HIS_ house and watched football with a can of beer like a run of the mill man but _dammit_ this was Jack. Jackson Michael Brewer and for some reason she just _couldn't_ say no.

Pulling on a pair of Jack's shrunk-in-the-wash-and-then-she-cut-off-like-twent y-yards capri's and one of his mom's old peasant blouses Kim slipped on her emergency flip-flops and made herself a lunch. Loosing her hair and pulling it into a half-ponytail she locked the front door behind her and stomped up to Jack's Wasabi green pickup.

He was already waiting, smug as anything, one of those twice damned toothpicks in his teeth, the engine running and a country song singing it's heart out on the radio. As Kim climbed up into the truck's cab she had to admit to herself that the genre was kinda growing on her. Lynyrd Skynyrd's_ Sweet Home Alabama_ started playing as soon as she got in and the caught herselfsinging along. A week and a half of nothing but country had really taught her a few things, and Jack seemed to like it.

"I can play this on guitar," he told her, a grin on his lips as hedrove, one hand on the wheel, the other hanging out the window.

"_Sweet Home Alabama_," they sang together, smiling at each other. "_where the skies are so blue. Sweet home Alabama. Lord, I'm coming home to you!"_ And on their way to Jack's first job, the two had their first moment.

* * *

"You brought me to a hospital?" Kim exclaimed indignantly as Jack cut the engine. "I thought it would be depressing but man you outdid yourself!"

The handyman beside her shot her a glare, hefting his toolbox out of the truck bed and beeping the lock, sticking the keys in his pocket. "Landford Hospital is very reputable, sugar." He said grumpily, pronouncing his reputable like 'rehs-pU-ti-ble' in his unmistakable accent. "Would ya rather I'd takin' you to the local honky-tonk?"

Kim gave him a look. "Honky-tonk? You mean the bar, right?"

Jack rolled his eyes and pushed the door open for her, receiving the blonde's pert 'thank you' with a roll of his brilliant eyes. "What else could I _possibly_ mean, sweet thing?" he muttered to himself, pushing past her to get to the checkout before she did, ignoring her gasp of annoyance. "Morning, ladies." Jack purred with a smile, getting his nearly daily dose of motherly love.

"Oh, Jack!" Julie gasped. "Is that your little lady?"

_Good Lord_. Jack let out a sigh of annoyance and dipped his head, tipping his Stetson. "Kimmy," he addressed, pulling out the name so the sound that came from between his kissable lips was 'kimmmmAAAy'. "This is Julie, Claire, and Erica."'Juulie', 'Ca-layre', and 'Er-ka' respectively. "Julie's my honorary sister-in-law, Claire's my cuz, and Erica's a good friend. They're an ornery bunch, but they're purty decent ladies."

Kim had to blink a few times. She wasn't prepared for the fact that the women he talked to her about when he got home were actually _attractive_. She smiled at his honorary sister-in-law and cousin, but dished out a fake one to 'Er-ka'. A primal urge in her heart had tugged at her to make sure she told the brown haired wannabe that Jackson Brewer was _hers_ thank you very much, and despite the fact that she was shocked to be _jealous_ over a guy she'd barely known for two weeks Kim rolled with it. She'd never met anyone like Jack-no one with his neglective habits, gentleman instincts, and beautiful eyes-nor had she met anyone who would let her stay a month with him despite barely knowing her, make her breakfast daily, and only dish out apervy comment every two days. Every other dude Kim'd met had only had one thought on his mind-to get Kim into his bed. All Jack wanted to do…was take care of her. And even that fact alone made her tingle in places that Kim would never admit she'd tingle in.

Tangent aside, Erica's answering wink told Kim that despite her initial thoughts, Erica didn't have her sights set on the tall rugged and good-looking handyman. To her eternal credit Kim did blush, and that flush of red alone was enough for the three ladies to pounce on her while Jack went to wash his hands and find Milton.

"Whadya think of our Jackie, Kimberly?" Claire gushed, eyes bright and copper-colored locks in a high bun. "Please tell me you're gonna make him set'le down!"

"He needs a good woman and the poor man is allergic taromance like a cat is ta water." Erica added, almost as an afterthought. "Please reel in our wannabe Casanova, sugar. We all need it."

"You need to watch out for that ole' transfer Donna Tobin tho' sweetheart." Julie bubbled.

Kim took it all in stride. "Donna who? Whats a transfer?"

"It's hospital speak for visitin' doctor, sugar." Erica responded, checking her nails. "That leggy long-faced goat has had her eye on our Jack for forever an' a day."

"We've been shoving him at her because he ain't got no one else but now!" Claire's eyes glowed with excitement. "We've got you!"

"ME?" Kim barely managed not to squeak. "Ladies I'm not sure what you heard but I'm just staying with Jackson until my car's fixed. There's nothing between us."

Julie scoffed, accepting a novice's clipboard and entering something in her computer. "And I'mma monkey's uncle, knows you've already got 'im wrapped around your little finger."

Erica saw Kim start to speak and quickly butted in, as adamant for the blonde to win over their little pet project as the rest of them, despite her normally aloof attitude. "Don't deny it, honey bunch. Jack avoids women almost as a rule, to protect 'imselffrom hurt again. Poor man hasn't been the same since his Momma's passing, mmm-mmm."

"If our Jack's made it his bus'ness to take care of you, lil girl, then he's obviously got a thing for you." Claire finished. "Now you listen here, sweet pea. Our Jackie's got it all-a steady job, abangin' bod, a sweet disposition, a good home, devoid o' debts, a fantastic love'maker, he's got it all. Don't let 'im go!"

"We're rooting for you sugar!" Julie butted in, the last lady to say a word as the brunette in question approached with the taller ginger doctor in tow. All three women busied themselves as the two men got nearer and both dudes raised a brow.

"What have you been up to, wife?" Milton playfully asked Julie, the auburn haired receptionist sticking up her nose at him.

"Nothin' you need to know." She returned with a slight smirk, pushing off the desk to kiss her husband sweetly. "Now you introduce yourself to Jack's little Kimmy here and leave them so Jackie can get started on his job yes."

"Yes, dear." Milton responded obediently, and with another kiss Julie's will, as it always ended being, was done.

The day passed much the same way-at the local Cracker barrel (the only commercial restaurant they'd allowed in their quaint town), at the Martinez's, Mrs. Johnson's, Mrs. Katridge's, Mrs. Taylor's, Old Man Tucker's, the Richter sisters, distillery, and motorcycle/car depot everyone always insisted that she snatch up Jack while she could. News travels fast in a small town, Kim learned, and every single person in Landford genuinely cared about their bachelor handyman. The blonde learned hercompanions story in bits of pieces until, at their last stop, the Parson's ranch, she knew the whole story.

The Brewer's used to be the ultimate family of underdogs. They did all the jobs that no one wanted to do, and not only were the good at it, they liked doing it. The generations continued this way until Jack's mother fell in love with a well-off businessman. His good-job karma had apparently messed up the cycle and Jack's mother had died in a freak lake accident. Jack kicked his father out of the house, and in return, the town kicked him out as well. Jack had been living by himself for close to nine years now and was afraid of getting close to anyone that mean more than life to him. He'd already had his heart broken, and wasn't about to have it broken. Kelly was his last present from his mom, a retriever-Sheperd reminder that all love wasn't meant to be destroyed.

Kim's heat tore a little for Jack when she'd heard that. All his gruffness was really a front-he really had an extremely loving and genuine core, but heartache had caused him to bury it.

He'd taught her little things about himself as well, the two of them developing a game where they'd trade a little fact about each other.

Jack was the tri-state champion of mumblety-peg.

Kim was the only girl in her entire school to go to a dance school instead of college.

Jack had an older brother than died in Afghanistan named Ryan.

Kim had a little sister named Mia.

Jack secretly enjoyed watching Food Network.

Kim's favorite shows were Bones, Psych, and as much as she hated to admit it, That 70's Show.

Jack never actually learned how to do laundry. The doof had just kept buying clothes when everything he already owned was dirty, and Julie, Claire, Mika, and Erica took turns washing half his clothes every month, which, as you can tell, wasn't really a lot of clothes.

Kim despised washing the dishes.

Jack really wanted Netflix.

Kim really wanted her own pair of Cinderella shoes.

It went on for quite some time.

They were at their last stop when they almost kissed, the sun disappearing over the horizon and casting is last dying gold rays over the land, chased by brilliant purples and pinks. The pair of them were perched on the fence at the end of the Parson's property, eating their complimentary apples and loathing moving their bodies. Even Jack had worked a lot for one day, and Kim was so unused to work that the simple act of helping Jack with only two of his jobs exhausted her petite form.

"You wanna learn how to shoot?" Jack inquired, biting into a fresh green apple from the sack at their feet. "A purdy lil thing like you shouldn't need ta shoot." He mumbled around his snack.

"To each his own," Kim remarked, shining her own Pretty Lady on a dry section of her shirt, still mostly wet from an accident regarding a horses rear end and a barrel full of water. "And I want to know how to ride a horse."

"Really?" Jack was a little bit shocked. He'd taken the petite blonde for a complete slacker, a stay at home girl who barely did any exercise. "You got the strength for it, lil bit?"

The blonde beside the handyman raised one perfectly tanned leg for his inspection without a hesitation, pointing her shoeless foot with a dancers grace. Jack had to gulp a bit-even in his Casanova years had he seen legs as gorgeous and striking as Kim's, but hell-he'd never seen _girls_ as striking and gorgeous as Kim herself. Kim's legs were curved by the modest muscles required to move with strength and agility over a stage, but light enough to that she didn't look like she was trying to rival a mans. They were, to put it simply, the best legs God had put on earth, but Jack wasn't going to admit it.

"Whadya doin' that for, sugar?" He asked, voice dipping into a husky quality as his tongue got dry and his blood rushing on overtime to his lower extremities.

"Feel them!" Kim demanded. "_You_ tell _me_ whether or not they can take riding horses! You're the expert!" Kim was telling the truth-Jack had been riding horses since he was six. He had years of experience-and a growing problem-under his belt. Scooping the bag of fruit from the ground to set on his lap and disguise his issue Jack swallowed and slid along the wooden fence to get closer to Kim, and the leg she offered.

The blonde couldn't help but shiver at the first hesitant touch of Jack's work roughened fingers on her outstretched leg. His hands were calloused and warm, the traveling kind of warmth that left ones insides kind of melty. The first five digits were soon joined by their five counterparts and Kim let out a pleased sigh as Jack's finger explored every creamy dip and curve her leg allowed. Out of propriety and gentlemanly instinct his glorious fingers never ventured beyond halfway up her thigh but the thought of the _other_ places his digits could be ghosting over made Kim full out groan.

Jack's fingers stopped. "Did I hurt ya', lil miss?"

"I haven't danced in ages," Kim lied quickly, hoping he couldn't see her blush. "My limbs get soar when I haven't stretched them in a while."

"Well why don't you do it when you're home, Kimmy?" Jack inquired, apples forgotten.

Kim leveled him with a halfhearted glare. "Taking care of you, your house, and your dog is a full time job, Mister." She grumbled softly. "I just don't have time."

"Do it now."

Kim gave him a look. Was Jack really serious? He wanted her to dance right there, with him watching on the edge of a horse patty filled pasture? He may have propriety, this man, but Common sense he was missing. Big time.

Jack shooed her towards the grass in front of him with a nod of his head and with a a smirk and a smile she complied.

"Music?" She challenged, raising a brow. Without a word (for once, she mentally added to the thought) Jack rose and sauntered to the nearby truck (which she'd learned was named it was for short for Roberta but she didn't believe him. He was just a weirdo and named his car a dude instead of adudette.) He returned with a pitch-black guitar and a ruby-red pick.

"Can you remember any of the country songs you've heard this week, sugar?" Jack asked, sitting down against the post, coincidentally at Kim's feet. She smiled down at him and Jack felt a flush of satisfaction for some reason. What was wrong with him? Lord knows he didn't know.

"How about that song that had stuff with um, something about a girl disappointing her mom? By Miranda something?"

"_Mama's Broken Heart_, Miranda Lambert." Jack countered easily and Kim shook her head at his extensive knowledge of country music.

"Yeah. That. You know the chords?"

Jack messed with the chords for a minute, but within a few minutes the tune was playing in the evening air. "Well?" he asked, the words sounding more like "Way-yul?" than the true word. "Ya gonna dance for me or what?"

And so Kim danced.

She danced her ever-loving heart out, speeding up as the song did, interpreting the over all rebellious theme of the song in her actions and Jack fell in love with her a little bit right there. He'd never met anyone who could move like her either.

"I'll teach ya."

"You'll what?"

"I'll teach ya. Ta ride and shoot pidge'uns, whatever you want. Anyone who can dance like you can, Kim, deserves to learn what she wants."

Kim stopped him them, standing on her tiptoes to press her soft, plush lips into his cheek. Jack almost turned his head to get those shell-pink beauties onto his own lips but Kim was too quick. "You're a doll, Jackson." She told him with a flush on her lips, and got in the truck without a word.

Both of them went home with a new realization-they liked each other. A freaking LOT now all they had to do was resist the urge to jump each others bones. While living in the same house. For over three weeks.

Well isn't that just PEACHY.

**Okay guys your reviews are brilliant and inspiring so don't stop! I read each and everyone one with a smile on my face. I wrote this on my last day of VACATION for you guys. Yeah. Thats right. I LOVE YOU THAT MUCH.**

**Love,**

**Your Lil**


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